On saying "no"

It's hard to believe that it's been 2 months since I started my new job. Even though it has been a huge culture shock going from the all Asian American, casual group house/dysfunctional family culture of OCA to working for an all white, corporate, Ivy League crowd, I know I made the right choice. I spend most of my time sitting in front of a laptop answering emails, scheduling meetings, and creating Excel sheets (with only occasional breaks to go to the post office or bank), living the gloriously undramatic life of an office manager/ops manager/executive assistant. Yes, sometimes I do miss being a full time advocate. I miss working with students and going to Hill briefings and being part of a tight knit community of other Asian American advocates. But the first time since I've been in DC, my paid work doesn't overlap with my organizing work, and it's been wonderful. It's renewed my appreciation for my organizing community and the communities of color that I'm a part of and not take them for granted. It's given me more balance and has helped me de-stress and reprioritize. 

Having firm boundaries has its downsides though; namely, I can no longer spend hours at my job doing organizing work! On top of my already full schedule of things I do for self-care (including rock climbing and POC sangha) it's been very difficult to stay on top of my board duties, event-planning, SONG work, and staying in touch with friends and family. Often I'm only home long enough to shove some hastily heated frozen food in my mouth before I leave again, or I go from work to a meeting/event and don't come home until 9 or 10 PM. 


Being busy and overcommitted has been a fact of my life here, and a fact of my life in general, for a very long time. A major reason why I'm always double-booked and feeling stretched is that I have a hard time saying "no". I have an over-developed sense of responsibility and a tendency to feel guilty about everything - a deadly combination when it comes to taking on extra commitments! 

I know I take on all these commitments in the first place because they help me feel valued and needed. For example, I have an important leadership role on the board I serve on, which gives me a sense of validation. I like being respected as a "veteran" member of the board and serving as a mentor to newer members. But it also means that I tend to think that I have to get the agenda done or the logistics for the retreat finalized or else I'll be failing my board members and friends. That I am so important that it is my sole responsibility to fulfill everything that is asked of me, and that I shouldn't ask for help or extra time because that will mean letting people down. I'm terrified of disappointing others - not just my board members and colleagues, but my friends, family, and partner. So much of my self-worth is tied up in how well I am performing a role for others that saying "no" becomes much bigger than it really is. Instead of meaning, "No, I need to draw this boundary for myself because I need to prioritize something else right now", "no" feels like saying, "No, because I don't care about you or the cause and I'm a bad, selfish person! In fact, I'm such a bad person that you should sever all ties with me right now!"


Extreme, isn't it? The Bully can be pretty absurd. Yet I make a lot of decisions based on this warped sense of self and reality. Pushing myself to always take on more and excel at everything (or else!) is an exhausting way to live. I also find that there's a continuum in terms of what I'm willing to say no" to, and the more important the relationship is to me, the less likely I am to say "no" (and the more I agonize over it).


My new work schedule has forced me to confront my limited time and make some intentional decisions about what I'm going to do with it. It has given me good practice in saying "no". In just the last few weeks, I have said "no" to:


1. Being on the planning committee for a national conference next year. 
2. Taking on a larger role in planning this year's OCA convention.
3. Facilitating leadership development workshops for an internship program (I felt particularly guilty about this one because I said I could do it but then realized I had double-booked myself). 
4. Going on a beach trip with friends because it's my only free weekend to pack before I move.


In all of those instances, people have responded respectfully and graciously. No one has accused me of being selfish. No one has said, "But you said you'd do it! What's wrong with you?" No one has ended their relationship with me or thought less of me. One of them even thanked me for being transparent about my boundaries. The more I said "no", the easier it got, and I felt lighter and freer with each refusal. I like to think of the above as the "soft" no's that may one day lead up to the harder ones. They're good practice for when I have to draw a boundary with my board or my job, or even someday in a close personal relationship in which I have a lot of myself wrapped up in what the other person thinks of me.


As I'm preparing to move after living in the same apartment for almost 3 years, saying "no" feels a lot like de-cluttering. When I have to clear my life of all my extra stuff, I realize that there are only a few key things that are absolutely essential. And those are the things I want to say "yes" to: taking care of my mind, body, and spirit, sleeping in on the weekends, having enough time to read the paper, cooking dinner, staying grounded in the movement and the communities I've worked so hard to build here, and staying connected with my partner, friends and family. I'm learning that "no" is a way of acknowledging and protecting the things I am blessed enough to already have.